


The Sakura That Cries

by sweetramenwonho



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Action, Angst and Tragedy, M/M, Romance, Samurai, Samurai AU, Sexual Tension, Tragedy, Wonkyun, also a little more sexual perhaps..., i mean they're sexy samurai why not, i wish my boys could act in an action movie like this hahaha, lowkey joohyuk, lowkey showki, my first au, my first au with wonkyunnn, samurai swords and samurai stuff, this is totally impromptu and all in the moment i hope you like it!, this one will have more violence and action, wonkyun rise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetramenwonho/pseuds/sweetramenwonho
Summary: A samurai AU that follows the broken ronin and lone wolf Changkyun as he accidently and bloodily ends up at the dojo of the famous X-clan led by Master Kihyun--a clan full of the most honorable and skilled samurai in Japan. After enduring a tragic past of betrayal and loss--some of which he can't seem to remember--Changkyun slowly warms up to his new brothers while uncovering lost memories and reminding himself of what it means to be a samurai.Along the way, our hero also becomes intrigued and distracted by the most dangerous weapon in the X-clan--a mysterious samurai only named Wonho to be reminded that he should now protect instead of kill mercilessly. The two develop a mature bond of trust and respect. However, their relationship soon escalates into something more intimate and may ultimately lead to tragic consequences.





	The Sakura That Cries

Hard rain fell on him; they were small bullets that punched into his skin as he crawled across the wet gravel. Changkyun could not remember how he ended up here in this cold place. It was too dark, and he could not see beyond the rain. The moon—selfishly hidden behind clouds—failed to provide him a clear path, so he only continued to blindly drag himself over the mud, the stones, the plants. As his consciousness gradually began to slip from him, he struggled to recall his life before this moment—the events that preceded such a tragedy—but the harder he fought to find it, the further it ran from him. A faded black began to invade his vision the more he trudged on, knees scraping over sharp rocks, his hands clawing through the grass. After the initial numbness disappeared, he felt the sharp and abrupt pain in his abdomen. He uttered a helpless grunt and clutched onto his stomach. His fingers squelched against a thick liquid that smelt of iron. Using the last bit of strength in him, he looked down at the wound. Body shaking from both the cold rain and the shock of realizing how deep the cut was, Changkyun gave into the weakness of his human body and collapsed on the ground.

~❀❀❀❀❀❀❀~

“Who is he?” he heard a soft voice ask. 

“Not sure,” another answered, “Should we tell Master?”

“He already knows,” a third voice chimed in. This one much lower and more mature, “He foresaw his arrival yesterday morning.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

“I wonder where he came from.”

“Master will ask him that,” the low voice said, “I will prepare Master’s tea now. Retrieve me if he wakes up.” 

“Understood.”

“And Minhyuk-ah. Don’t forget to redress his wounds if they bleed through.”

“Got it.” Changkyun then heard footsteps fading away, birds chirping, and the cicada whirring. A harsh light pierced through his eyelids. He let out a painful moan as he turned his head the other way to avoid being blind.

“Oh, I think he’s awake,” one of the voices observed. Changkyun slowly pried his eyes open, blinking numerously before his blurry vision became clear. He found two men kneeling before him—one on each side. The man to his left had white hair that covered most of his eyes. He looked a bit intimidating but simply curious. The one sitting on his right had dark, red hair that swept to the side and a striking face. His cheekbones were high, his eyes glittering. They stared at Changkyun with concern. He himself was lying on a futon, a small table occupied with a tea set was beside the man with white hair. Changkyun immediately attempted to sit up to take in more of his surroundings but unfortunately, the thick bandages around his waist made his body stiff and he was quickly returned to lying on his back.

“Don’t push yourself, friend,” the red-haired one said. “You’ve suffered multiple injuries.”

“Where am I?” Changkyun managed to ask though his throat was dry, “Who are you?”

“I’m Minhyuk,” the man said. “This is Jooheon-shi.” The white-haired one nodded politely. Changkyun took in their attire, the obvious haori and hakama—the swords attached to their waists. He gulped nervously,

“You are samurai?”

“Are you not one, too?” The one addressed as Jooheon asked, “The wounds on your body…they were inflicted by the sword of the samurai.”

“I…I am not a samurai,” Changkyun said quietly. “Not anymore…”

“Your master?”

“Dead,” he replied bluntly. The small room became quiet at his bold utterance of calling himself a ronin. He made another effort to sit up again. This time, he pushed passed the initial ache in his stomach. When he managed to sit properly, he laid his hand atop the place where the sword had penetrated him.

“Where did you say I was?” he asked.

“Dojo of the X-clan,” Minhyuk replied. “Led by the great Master Kihyun.”

“Speaking of Master, he would probably want to meet you right away,” Jooheon said, “That is, if you are in the proper condition…”

“Yeah…” Changkyun nodded quickly. He took in a breath before pushing himself up from the ground. The second he stood, his legs began to wobble and the pain from his wounds were heavy burdens on his body. Thankfully, Jooheon caught him before he fell over.

“You may rest more if you wish,” he said calmly, his eyes unwavering. 

“No,” Changkyun shook his head, “I’m…I’m good. Thanks.”

“I admire your ambition. But you do understand it’ll be Minhyuk and I that will have to clean up afterwards if you bleed out?” Changkyun laughed softly,

“Then I apologize in advance.” He took a step from the man and slowly found strength in his legs again. Minhyuk handed him some folded clothes and told him to change while they waited outside. As soon as the door slid shut, Changkyun let out a deep sigh. He was still confused and didn’t know how he ended up here of all places. He’d heard of the rumored X-clan and of Master Kihyun—one of the youngest masters partaking in the current war. Apparently, it was a smaller but highly well-known clan that only consisted of the most elite warriors. Changkyun always thought they were a myth—made up only to have others believe the resistance still had a trump card—an ace up their sleeve. Changkyun was in shock to find they actually existed.

 

Jooheon and Minhyuk were speaking to each other quietly when he slid the door open; he’d taken quite a while—painfully struggling to pull on his clothes while also trying to avoid opening his wounds. They looked at him with pity in their eyes but were friendly nonetheless. The bright sun was shining boldly in the blue sky and Changkyun saw the sakura standing tall—a few droplets of rain from last night still lingering on the pink petals. 

“Might I ask what your name is?” Minhyuk said. “We introduced ourselves after all.” Changkyun limped a few steps behind as they began to walk along the outside of the dojo. He kept his gaze on the polished floor,

“It’s Changkyun,” he replied.

“Changkyun, huh?” Jooheon repeated. Then he laughed, “Well, Changkyun, that’s where I found you last night.” He pointed towards the beautiful gardens in the distance but when Changkyun squinted, he saw an obvious path of flattened, destroyed flowers and blood-covered mud. The stone path ahead was even more obviously painted with his blood. He suddenly felt mortified.

“I appreciate you taking me in…”

“Was I supposed to leave you out there?” Jooheon smiled and it was the first time Changkyun noticed he had dimples. 

“What are you acting so heroic for?” Minhyuk said, reaching over and shaking Jooheon’s shoulders, “He completely freaked out! Screamed so loud—practically woke up the entire dojo!” Changkyun laughed as Jooheon endured Minhyuk’s teasing. As they made their way forward, Changkyun heard the sound of practice swords and men shouting from around the corner.

“Students are practicing this early in the morning?” he asked.

“Ah, yes that’s Hyungwon’s class,” Jooheon said, “He usually teaches the newer recruits around this time.” They continued walking and the outdoor training field was revealed to him. Changkyun saw young bloods standing in straight rows and practicing the same blow over and over again. The teacher would shout out the number they were on, they would yell, swing their sword down in one motion, lift it up swiftly and repeat. Changkyun scanned the inexperienced faces until he finally found the teacher casually walking back and forth at the front—a tall, lanky young man with dark brown hair. He stood straight and confidently, his hands folded behind his back as he shouted out the next number. Changkyun was taken aback by his face. He thought he’d only ever see that type of visual in the theaters.

“He’s a pretty one,” Changkyun said.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so,” Minhyuk shrugged, “Don’t say that to his face though. Last person that did ended up with one arm.”

“Right…” When they finally made their way to the Master’s room, a tall muscular man was standing at the door. He had two swords hanging against his waist. From the looks of it, he looked befitting to the title of master. The man’s dark eyebrows were scrunched together when they approached,

“I thought I told you to get me when he woke up,” he said quietly.

“Too much trouble,” Minhyuk brushed him off, “Besides, this one was eager to meet him.” The man’s eyes went to Changkyun then, his expression unreadable. Changkyun could admit he was definitely intimidated by this one. He awkwardly stood there wondering if he should say something as the man stared him down, but his mind was drawing a blank.

“You two can return to your studies,” the intimidating guy said with a nod, “I’ll take him to see Master Kihyun.” 

“Understood.” Jooheon and Minhyuk politely bowed before departing. When they were gone, the serious guy turned and placed his hand on the door.

“I can cut eight of your fingers off within the course of a second,” he said. Changkyun blinked numerously, 

“What?”

“Just letting you know in case you try anything.” He looked over at him, “Ready?” Changkyun gulped before slowly nodding. He waited as the man slid the door open and allowed him to enter the room first. It was dimly lit save for a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Changkyun stepped forward, his eyes searching for this great master. Behind a red, translucent curtain, he saw a silhouette. So, this was the shadow of the young Master Kihyun that frightened every samurai in the government? The quiet, scary man was standing behind him at the door—preventing him from escaping if something were to go wrong. He gulped nervously and continued to walk towards the obscure shape.

“I was told you ruined my garden,” a warm voice suddenly said. Changkyun froze. He wasn’t expecting such a song-like sound amongst the mysterious atmosphere. He kept his head down,

“Yes, I…I apologize for that…”

“It’s fine…I was getting tired of the purple irises anyway.” Changkyun didn’t know if he should’ve laughed or not. It was more nerve-racking than he’d initially presumed. He held back some coughs and tasted blood. Perhaps he should’ve waited a bit longer to meet this person. He was in no physical condition to be walking around much less meeting a highly respected man.

“Come over here, young one…” the great master ordered. Changkyun licked his lips, suddenly nervous. It wasn’t until the other man impatiently pushed him forward that he brought himself to walk towards the red cloth.

He heard the master laugh, “Be nice, Shownu…” Despite feeling anxious, Changkyun managed to walk behind the curtain. Master Kihyun was smaller than he’d imagined. He had light blond hair that split in the middle. His face was softer and more feminine than he would expect for a master—especially an intimidating one. He couldn’t help but notice the thin, black sash tied around his eyes. 

“Can you not see me?” Changkyun asked innocently. This made Kihyun laugh.

“I’ve been blind since birth—a gift given to me by the deities.” 

“A gift, huh?”

“Yes…I sense that you have one, too, young one…” Kihyun’s hands felt along the table until they touched the cup that was sitting on it, “A great gift that will make this clan stronger than ever.” Changkyun narrowed his eyes in curiosity,

“What do you mean by that?”

“Please…take a seat.” Changkyun was apprehensive. He looked down nervously before kneeling on the cushion, hands on his thighs. The wound in his stomach screeched in pain when he moved, and he could only do his best to ignore it. The master’s eyes remained closed behind the black cloth.

“Your name…” he saw Kihyun’s lips tighten before he brought the cup to them, “It is the name of a lone traveler…a lone wolf…Changkyun, was it? You have been traveling for quite a while, haven’t you? A personal mission? Perhaps fueled by vengeance or personal fulfillment…?” He remained quiet as Kihyun took a small sip of the tea. This man was certainly no joke—someone perhaps even his previous master would have been respectful towards.

“You do not seem alarmed by my insight, young one.” The master said. Changkyun cleared his throat, his gaze on the floor,

“I’ve heard rumors of your greatness,” he admitted, “And of your X-clan…”

“I see…” Kihyun smiled before setting the cup back down. “Now there is one thing I must ask of you, Changkyun-ah—something that, even with all my wisdom, I cannot see—and that is the reason why you were bleeding out in my garden in the first place.” His mouth shift to one side as he considered something, “But I sense from you a lack of recollection…perhaps the trauma of a certain incident—perhaps the incident that led you to be sliced up like sashimi—is the reason for that.” Changkyun bit his bottom lip,

“If I could recall, I would,” he said. 

“And I believe you,” Kihyun crossed his arms, “I am known to take in orphans and ronins, Changkyun-ah…but your sudden appearance and the violent state you arrived in has left me and my students quite suspicious. With the current reputation of traitors in the war, you should understand how serious this matter is. So…before you can join the X-clan, you must prove yourself to us…” Changkyun was flattered. This man who knew nothing of him or where he came from was allowing him to become part of his dojo—allowing him a chance to prove himself when any other man would have simply killed him and continued on with their day. There weren’t many honorable samurai like this anymore.

“You honor me with your offer, Master Kihyun,” he bowed. “But I have no intention of staying here.” Kihyun was silent; his hands on his knees.

“Then where do you intend to go, wolf?”

“I do not know…” he admitted, “But a ronin like myself…must continue on regardless.”

“I see…” the master’s face remained still, “Then I will not keep you any longer. You may stay at the dojo until your wounds have fully healed. Perhaps being around the warriors of the X-clan will remind you of what it means to be a samurai.” 

“Thank you…” Changkyun politely bowed towards him in gratitude before exiting the room. Up until the moment the door closed behind him did he keep up the façade of strength. But as soon as he was away from Master Kihyun, he let out a painful groan, his hand clutching his stomach. 

“I will take you back to your room,” Shownu said, already walking ahead of him. Changkyun had to quicken his pace to catch up. They went a different way than when Minhyuk and Jooheon had brought him and he didn’t want to get lost. The path Shownu took allowed him to see the inside of the dojo. He took in the familiar touch of the hard floor against his socks. Changkyun hated to admit it but Master Kihyun had been right. The smell of the dojo, the sound of the cicadas, seeing those young aspiring samurai training so hard and so early in the morning—it all brought him back to those innocent days where blood only came in the form of mosquito bites. 

All the doors were pushed wide open in the next room they walked into, revealing a beautiful opening that was surrounded by the giant cherry blossom trees. The pink petals flew down as a breeze brushed by and Changkyun suddenly stopped walking. A man was practicing alone underneath the sakura. The blade of his sword glistened as he moved—like some sort of shimmery diamond or fancy hairpiece the women wore at the yearly festivals. His movements were swift and graceful. He looked like he was dancing. The posture of his stance was strong and firm—precise and practiced—but there was an improvised elegance to his attacks as well—which left Changkyun captivated. The expression on his face was serious; his lips were pushed together in concentration, but there was a tint of seduction in his eyes—an energy and a spark that interested Changkyun. His black hair—wet from sweat—moved dramatically whenever he did—messy and disordered—contradicting his sword work and the flawless, cold beauty that was his appearance. Changkyun could not stop staring at him. He suddenly remembered it well—how it felt to hold a sword as a samurai and not as a ronin, how happy he was whenever he made his master proud, how badly he wanted the brotherhood he believed in to be real.

“Hey,” Shownu called out to him, snapping him back to reality. Changkyun quickly looked over.

“What?”

“Move it.” Without waiting for the man to threaten him again, he obediently rushed to Shownu’s side. He was tempted to touch his covered wound once more but after seeing that beautiful and strong man, he suddenly didn’t want to be frail.

“Uh…it was Shownu, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name? Shownu?”

“What about it?” Changkyun coughed nervously,

“Can I ask you who that man was, Shownu?”

“That man?”

“The one…” he suddenly felt embarrassed, “The one practicing alone—underneath the sakura…”

“Who? Wonho?” Even the sound of his name sounded as beautiful as his dance. Changkyun nodded, 

“Is he…does he live here at the dojo?” Shownu gave him an annoyed look,

“What does it matter? You’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

“Right…” Shownu scoffed irritably at his response before walking faster, forcing Changkyun to nearly open his gashes as he tried to keep up. He didn’t get it. Only moments ago, he was aching to leave this place—wanting to run from the life of a samurai and to finally move on from his past. But now suddenly, for probably the first time in a long while, Changkyun had the deep urge to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean...it's sweetramenwonho of course there are gonna be tragic consequences...


End file.
